


My Knight

by canongoddess



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 04:09:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canongoddess/pseuds/canongoddess
Summary: Sara Ryder saved the turian ark, so why wouldn't she go to the after party?





	My Knight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot, but I love the idea of their relationship beginning at this party. I am working heavily on Evfra at the moment, but Kandros should fear me next.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFxNBWdMOsc&t=5s   
> If you like audiobooks, a youtuber has a reading that you should check out. Perfect for listening to while you clean your house or drive. :)

Ryder was not one to frequent the Vortex. She had to agree with Drack that Kralla’s Song while being dusty and dirty and probably filled with more criminals than the Council meetings was the perfect place to share whiskey and throw a few punches which was something she always wanted to do at Council meetings. SAM was always quick to tell her exactly why that wasn’t wise in his animatronic voice that had a slightly frantic speed. She had just walked off the Tempest with a bag of exotic hops for the Vortex and noted a high frequency of turians on the docking bay.

She looked pointed at a cluster and raised her eyebrows at Vetra.

Vetra shrugged and said, “I wasn’t invited,” and promptly turned back to staring over the railing.

While it was true that her traveling companion was not the typical turian, the shady back door deals that excluded her from the high and mighty straight-laced military types usually provided intel on everything that they were doing. But if Vetra didn’t know, then it must not be important. Ryder was curious. Scott’s voice nagged at the back of her mind. She knew he would smugly cross his arms and say, “Curiosity killed the cat, Kitty.” His playful nickname was something that was picked up by her family quickly with her nose either in dirt or a book.

Ryder shook her head with a fond smile. Her brother may be in cryo still, but she had resolved to see that as an opportunity. Someone had to get out and build a home for this haphazard plan, and she was going to jumpstart this galaxy before she released the likes of Scott Ryder on it.

She shouldered her bag and headed toward Vortex counting turians along the way. They were definitely the majority, and the frequency of drunkenness was increasing as she advanced. She smiled to herself thinking of exactly how pissed Tann would be to learn that practically the entire turian ark was sitting intoxicated in the docking bay with more than one lewd drinking song being sung off key in hydroponics.

She walked up to the bar and plopped the bag of hops onto the counter placing her hands on either side of it and smiling sweetly at the grumpy bartender. Dutch scowled as expected.

“Do you have an excuse for dirtying my counter?”

Ryder’s smile only increased at his derisive sniff.

The asari bartender laughed, “Relax, Dutch. Pathfinder, can I assume these are our hops?”

“You can.”

Dutch immediately looked like a child at Christmas and began frantically peering at the bag and muttering to himself about the similarities and brewing methods. The asari smiled fondly and shook her head turning to Ryder.

“Thanks. Really.”

“It’s fine. I was in the area. What’s going on in here?” She waved her hand at the turians packed into the bar and pulsing to the beat of the loud music.

“I believe I can answer that,” a gravelly voice said behind her a bit too close to her ear making Ryder shiver.

She turned to see Kandros slid in beside her with one hand propping him up on the bar and another holding a drink – one too many from the way he was relying heavily on that arm to keep what meager balance he had.

“It’s a We-Survived-Dark-Space party. Didn’t you get an invitation?”

He was still speaking close to her ear, and Ryder felt a bit unsteadied by it.

“No, and after all I did.” She crossed her arms in mock anger finding Kandros’s lack of control to be somewhat endearing. The pent-up leader letting loose was almost adorable.

Kandros frowned, and Ryder hid her smile in a cough.

“That should be remedied immediately.” He turned to Dutch. “Bring the woman a drink.”

Dutch scowled but produced a purple bubbling concoction. “I’m still taking name suggestions.”

“Well, how about Dark Space? It is the name of the party.”

Kandros waved his hand. “Ryder did save the ark. Not only is she beautiful but capable. The least we can do is name a drink after her.”

Ryder started and stared at Kandros wide-eyed. She had not expected Kandros of all people to hit on her. The stalwart militia captain had been kind and supportive, but he had a reputation as a man with the sexual appetite of a – of a – Well she couldn’t think of an apt comparison at the moment, since her brain had short circuited.

Dutch rolled his eyes. “This is the chemistry lab for God’s sake!”

The asari snickered, “Exactly. The _chemistry_ lab.”

Dutch gave her a look that told her quite plainly to go to hell but with love, and he picked up his bag of hops and hauled them in the back.

Ryder turned back to the bar and chugged the drink hoping to give the appearance that her red face was definitely from the alcohol and not from the advances of the resolute captain of the guard, but that thought only served to make her think of herself as the damsel in this situation.

_You_ work _with him_ , she said to herself. _And he’s drunk. It means absolutely nothing._

“I believe that Kandros has exhibited favor to you in the past, Pathfinder,” SAM chimed in.

“Shut up, SAM,” she growled low.

Kandros leaned closer to her until his ear was a mere inch from her mouth. “What? I didn’t hear you. This music is damned near deafening.”

“I said my drink is empty,” she replied frantically.

Kandros waved over another concoction and smiled when Ryder put her hand around it.

“Tonight is on me.”

“Thanks,” she replied loudly.

Kandros turned around and took a swig from his drink observing the pulsing crowd. Ryder did the same noting that she wasn’t the only human customer. There was a scattering of asari as well, but it was clear that the turians intended to make Vortex their home tonight.

“You continue to impress me, Sara,” Kandros rumbled in his low-pitched voice that the Pathfinder had to admit she found quite dashing. “You brought the ark home – to the Nexus. And Avitus thinks very highly of you. It was a shame about Macen, but he is finding peace.”

At this, Kandros gestured to the dance floor where Avitus was dancing with another turian with a small smile on his face.

“I’m glad everything turned out… as well as can be expected. And I like Avitus. I’m glad he’s relaxing.” She felt a little off-balance at hearing her first name pass the lips of the straight-laced turian.

Kandros glanced at her before downing his drink and slamming the glass on the bar. He turned arms wide to stand in front of Ryder.

“My lady,” Kandros said with a saucy grin on his face, “he is not the only one who can dance.”

Sara grinned at his antics and downed her second drink knowing that she had gone too fast, but Kandros’s waiting hand was beckoning her to the dance floor. Her callused fingers slid over his gloved talons, and she followed him up to the platform erected at the front of the Vortex. She felt her arm jerk, and she gave a little shriek as she spun into Kandros their chests colliding as he took her other hand in his.

Kandros’s laugh came out more like a growl sending a cold shiver down her skin.

“Intercourse would be unwise. Excluding the work relations, human-turian liasons are generally uncomfortable – “

“SAM, we’re just dancing!” Ryder knew her voice was too loud, and her face was too loud. She sometimes hated SAM’s practicality, and she would adamantly deny that an idea of that nature had even crossed her mind.

Kandros’s grin widened, and Sara allowed herself to get swept into the beat with the militia commander until they were both sweaty, panting, and laughing. She knew that she was not what one would call a good dancer, but she had assets that could make her male partners overlook that little problem, but Kandros was a good dancer. Apparently, he was just as smooth at everything he did whether that be stabbing an enemy or spinning girls until the lights blurred and catching them in a bend with that oh-so-sexy voice purring like a predator toying with prey. And Sara was enjoying it a little too much and a little too drunk to make much of a fuss about it.

Kandros had downed three more glasses of whatever he was drinking, and Ryder watched him swallow and his adam’s apple bob. She bit her lip wondering what a turian’s skin felt like. They were always wearing armor, and it is not like she was ten and could simply ask with a child’s curiosity if she could maybe possibly rub her hand down the military commander’s neck to see the texture difference between plates and skin in his species purely for investigative scientific reasons.

“Pathfinder, I believe that the common phrase used to describe turian skin is ‘like a chicken’.”

“SAM, I swear to God that if you do not shut up…” She let the sentence trail off in an unending threat, because not only had SAM forestalled her discovery, he had made it seem very unappetizing.

Kandros quirked an eyebrow. “What is your AI saying?”

“That you feel like a chicken,” she said rolling her eyes.

 “A chicken? Wait.” He leaned forward intently getting too close for comfort. “You asked your AI what I _felt_ like.”

“…For science?” She paired a shrug with an embarrassed smile. “It’s hot in here and noisy. And I think I’ve had too much to drink. Don’t you think I’ve had too much to drink? I mean, I’ve never really _held_ my liquor anyway. I mean I – “

She stopped talking as Kandros stood up and wobbled. She jumped up to catch him, and he grabbed her shoulder for support. He looked at her with absolute horror written across his face.

“Are you okay?”

He stood brushing nonexistent dust off his armor, and his mandibles clacked shut against his face. “I need fresh air.”

The question in his glance needed little answering. Ryder would be a poor friend if she let him wander out alone, besides it felt oddly good to think of herself as the knight rescuing the damsel for once. Where Kandros had been concerned, she always felt that she was either his equal or the one being rescued but never the rescuer, so she straightened her shoulders and weaved through the crowd holding his hand. They escaped the crowd in Vortex, then in hydroponics, and finally found refuge on the second floor near to the apartments.

Kandros leaned against the wall and slid to the ground with a sigh. Sara sat next to him giggling.

“I didn’t know I was that funny.”

“It’s just the roles,” she explained. “I get to be your hero for once.”

The leader of the militia chuckled. “You are certainly a path to be followed.” He was silent a moment before continuing.

“I used to want to be the Pathfinder.”

Ryder snorted, “The stalwart commander jumping into unknown territory?”

Kandros pushed her with his shoulder companionably. “And why not? I’m adventurous.”

“Kandros,” she said, “the most adventure you invite into your routine is changing your underwear.”

He smiled good naturedly but maybe that was just the drink. “Why fix what isn’t broken?”

“Because that’s how you make things better. At least, it’s how I make things better.”

“Perhaps I’ll buy a thong.”

Ryder burst out laughing at the idea of Kandros asking one of the salesmen for the undergarment. She could see him holding the string with one talon as he stalked back to his apartment looking at his purchase with all the ire one reserved for a diaper. Kandros purred beside her with a smile. Eventually, Sara gasped for air and began to cough. Kandros turned to her hurriedly patting her on the back and being every bit the attentive knight in shining armor that she saw in him. When her cough subsided, Kandros let his talon fall on her hand and sat as if nothing were amiss.

“Kandros,” she murmured quietly, “you don’t need to be an adventurer like me. I mean, I go out and find things – catalogue and identify, but I never can make a home. That’s why I need people like you. We need people like you. You are a rock and a base to build upon. It’s… comforting to know I can come home to that.”

Sara had been looking down at her knees pulled up before her when she felt the touch of his talon against her cheek. She turned her head seeing his knitted brows and suddenly thought - felt the world come to a stop.

“Sara Ryder, I do believe you just called me ‘home.’”

She felt the scratch of his talon as he led her face toward his, and she let herself be led. The kiss was long and full of dry lips, but it made her heart race. Her hand snaked up to touch his shoulder tentatively letting her it fall and run down his chest. They parted slightly both sets of eyes focused on the other’s mouth.

“My apartment is around the corner,” Kandros whispered through hot breath. “Although, I’m not much of a hero if I invite you in.”

His eyes flicked up searching her face. Sara saw the question and wanted very much to take advantage of it against her better judgement.

“I’m perfectly capable of opening my own doors,” she replied.

Kandros took her hand helping her up without a word and led her to a grey door that was like all the other grey doors but somehow seemed to hold an unspoken promise of a night that she could not forget. When it slid open, it revealed a tidy room that had the practical touch of the leader of the militia and no trace of the Kandros that had taken a chance on her that evening. He walked into the small kitchen and pulled down a bottle and two glasses.

“I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,” he said handing the glass to her.

She joined him on the open piece of the small sofa. He had positioned it to look out a window rather than at a television which made her instantly give him brownie points. When she mentioned it to him, he said with a shrug that he needed to see incoming attacks, and she pushed him roughly.

“Alright,” he chuckled, “It’s to woo beautiful women like yourself.”

She reached up to touch the pebbling of plates on his skin noting the temperature contrast between the two, and she felt him start vibrating his eyes closing with the hum’s increasing intensity. She smiled and scratched at his chin with fingernails that were practically nonexistent. She couldn’t keep them long in the field but hated the feeling of them being cut to the quick.

“You’ll put me to sleep,” he purred eyelids fluttering.

She smiled enjoying her own power over him at the moment and kept scratching heedless of his warning. His mandibles clicked open and shut as he stretched out his neck allowing her to have more room. Sara felt the tension ease out of his body as she coaxed him closer to her and feeling emboldened planted a kiss on his outstretched head. She felt his smile as he returned the kiss to her. When it broke, Sara was cuddled against his chest as they lay on the sofa. She rearranged herself, so they could both see the view of the Nexus. He was warm, and his arms felt strong and protective around her. She suddenly felt cozy and calm unlike anything she was allowed to feel during her missions. All the days of being spread so thin melted away in Kandros’s arms on that small couch.

“It’s beautiful,” she said looking out at the view but more speaking about the feeling of being warm, safe, and reassured that everything would work out in the end.

“Yes, beautiful,” replied Kandros staring at her as she lay in his arms, and her eyelids grew heavy.

He watched her fall asleep that night in his arms with his body urging him to give in to temptation and ravage this amazing woman that had somehow wound up in his room, but his mind wanted to wrap her in comfort. He knew she had said that she was his hero, but she had also inadvertently said that he was hers, and he liked it. He wanted to be her hero right now, so he carried her to the bed. When he lay beside her under the covers, her small fists found him and clutched his night clothes, and he brushed the hair out of her eyes.

Planting a kiss on her forehead, he whispered, “Good night.” And he was rewarded with a smile, and they slept.


End file.
